


Living Like Silent Partners

by eclipsedheart



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, OTP Feels, Random & Short, Romance, Secret Relationship, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipsedheart/pseuds/eclipsedheart
Summary: Random shorter scenes, no particular order, with Theresa and Bernard when they're alone. Title inspired by the Laura Branigan song "Silent Partners". I do take requests for these, so don't hesitate to ask. :)





	1. Getting Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Just a place where I put random scribbles with these two lovebirds. :) There will be some H/C in it, and usually it will be Theresa hurt/sick/injured and Bernard being the caretaker, simply because that comes easier to me. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you like them, and I'm also open to prompts if you have them :)

* * *

 

“So,” Bernard said that evening, closing the door behind him, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we can start with the fact that you overslept this morning, which is unheard of. And you picked tea over coffee, which is also unheard of. And…”

Theresa raised a hand to stop him, snatched a tissue from a box on the counter, and sneezed into it. Not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession.

“…bless you… you’ve been sneezing all day.”

“Allergies.” She sounded winded from the fit, and her voice was slightly raspy.

“Mhm. To the filtered air-conditioned indoors environment of the mesa.” He huffed. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Theresa, you’re getting sick.”

“I’m _fine_ , Bernard!”

It would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t come out as ‘fide’, though, and she heard it as well as Bernard did. She winced but refused to backtrack.

Bernard took off his glasses and put them down on the counter, pulled Theresa close and was about to kiss her when she wormed out of his grip and put some safety distance between them. Bernard had expected her to do just that.

“Any particular reason you don’t want to kiss me tonight?”

Theresa looked torn, but finally she capitulated.

“Alright, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to kiss you just in case I’m wrong about this being allergies, okay?”

He bridged that safety distance, placing a hand on her brow. Theresa rolled her eyes but didn’t push his hand away.

“You’re certainly wrong about this being allergies,” he said. “As far as I know, you don’t get fever from hayfever.”

“Aren’t you funny,” she muttered. “Well, if I am sick, you should probably go back to your place before you catch it.”

Rather than doing what she suggested, Bernard leaned in and kissed her.

“Stupid man,” Theresa murmured and kissed him back. “Don’t whine when you catch it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, maybe it’s best we go to bed, then,” he said and kissed her again.

“Doctor’s orders?” Her eyes sparkled. Or maybe it was just the glossiness of fever.

“Exactly.”


	2. Adorable

* * *

 

”So, Mr ’I Don’t Catch Colds’, how are you feeling today?” Theresa asked, crossing her arms.

Bernard looked up from the programming tablet.

“Came to gloat, did you?” he said, voice thick and strained, and at least half an octave deeper than usual.

Theresa tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips as she took in his appearance, measuring it. He looked about as sick as he sounded. Eyes bleary, nose chapped and red, and he looked overall exhausted, as if he was barely able to sit up.

For all her stern expression, her voice was surprisingly soft when she spoke again.

“No, I was actually going to suggest you take today off.”

He blinked.

Theresa nodded as if he had said something in response, and lowered her voice.

“I can’t help feeling guilty.” She raised a hand to stop him from objecting. “I know, there’s a full-on cold epidemic going around here – two, if you want to count the one affecting the hosts – and you could have gotten it anywhere. But as far as I know, you’ve only been kissing me.”

He chuckled, and it turned into a cough that he tried to muffle against his sleeve, with moderate success.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No. It was the look on your face. You look like you’re worried I’m about to reveal that I kiss everyone.”

“It’s not funny, Bernard.”

“The way you try to hide that you’re jealous is. It’s quite adorable,” he said with another cough. Theresa’s cheeks turned a bright pink as she fumbled for words, but he interrupted her before she could find any. “Only you, Theresa,” he reassured her. “Since my wife, there’s only been you. But I still could have gotten this from someone else.”

“Wherever you caught it, the place to recover is in bed,” Theresa said, brushing off the side subject and hoped that she wasn’t coming across as ‘adorable’ in her relief. “I’m not sure if I can give you orders in this matter, but I’m asking you. As your… uh… _friend_. Go get some rest.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

“I’ll finish up early today and come check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, Bernie. Let me take care of you for once, okay?”

Sensing it was important to her, and quite frankly feeling lousy enough that he’d welcome a bit of TLC, Bernard nodded, then he turned away from Theresa and sneezed heavily into the crook of his arm.

Theresa’s hand lingered on his shoulder.

“Bless you. Do you have a fever?” She removed her hand and placed it on his forehead instead. “Yes, you do,” she answered her own question. “Alright. Enough talking, go back to bed. I’ll tell Miss Hughes to take over here, and I’ll come check on you as soon as I can.”

Bernard could sometimes be a bit annoyed with her upfront taking charge attitude, but right now he was grateful for it and more than happy to obey.


	3. Ice Sheets

* * *

 

They’d been fighting, and now lay on opposite sides of the King-sized bed, backs against each other. Since they were trying to get as much distance between them as possible, they kept struggling with getting enough blanket.

“This bed is the size of Australia, with blanket to match, yet you somehow _still_ manage to hog the fucking thing,” Theresa said as she snatched it back and rolled over to her side of the bed.

“One of the smaller continents,” Bernard replied, waited until her grip of the blanket relaxed, and then snatched it off her again. Theresa muttered a guttural Danish curse into the pillow and pulled it back.

“Watch it, or this bed is going to become Antarctica instead.”

“Very funny.”

“You think? Personally, I wouldn’t like to sleep on ice sheets, but perhaps you have a different opinion on the matter.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear you give me the cold shoulder tonight.”

“If it doesn’t suit you, you can either sleep on the couch or go back to your own quarters.”

Bernard sighed, but didn’t answer.

They lay in silence for a while, both feeling a bit sheepish, but neither wanting to admit to being wrong. The tug of war over the blanket continued.

Eventually Bernard grew tired of the whole thing and moved further into the middle of the mattress, then reached out and pulled Theresa into his arms, wrapping the blanket tightly around them both.

“You are impossibly stubborn,” he murmured into her hair. “But I love you anyway.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Theresa mumbled and turned so she faced him. “I love you too. That was never up for debate. I’m just mad at you.”

“Still?” he asked, kissing her on the tip of her nose.

“Hm.” She didn’t reciprocate his display of affection, but she didn’t withdraw either. “I may be persuaded to reconsider.”

He chuckled warmly and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Then another. These weren’t the buildup to sex, weren’t even building up to foreplay, these were simply gentle, affectionate kisses, and into them he put all the love he felt for this woman. This impossibly stubborn woman who had been offended by his attempts to look after her when she failed to look after herself. Was he overprotective for trying to send her home when her cramps were so bad that she could barely sit up straight? Maybe he was. In his defence, she had really looked like she was suffering. But after the overreaction his sympathy had rendered, he assumed that as a woman in charge, she didn’t want to feel like she had to surrender to something so stereotypically feminine as period cramps.

“How about that?” he murmured, running his hand gently through her hair and kissed her once more for good measure.

“Mm,” Theresa replied. “You just broke the ice.”

“Good.” He kept giving her soft, gentle kisses while slowly stroking her hair, and he enjoyed watching as she drifted off to sleep. The strain lines of pain in her face smoothed out as she relaxed, and she became heavier and heavier in his arms. That was a weight he was happy to carry. One that he felt privileged to carry.


	4. Popcorn

* * *

 

“You did _not_ just throw a popcorn at me.”

Theresa spoke in a calm voice, but it had a hint of warning in it.

“Of course not.”

Bernard’s voice was the very epitome of innocence.

“Because it’s not like I can feel the sudden appearance of a popcorn in my cleavage.”

“The power of suggestion.”

Theresa nodded.

“It’s just that I can’t figure out _who_ suggested that.”

“Quite the mystery,” Bernard agreed and reached for the bowl of popcorn between them. Before his hand reached its goal, however, Theresa took the bowl and moved it out of his reach.

“I’d say Mr Lowe has had enough snacks if he thinks it’s fine to waste them by throwing them around.”

“Ah, Miss Cullen, the self-proclaimed guardian of the snacks.” He tugged at the blanket. “And notorious blanket-stealer.”

“Not to mention righteous owner of this bed.”

“Forgive me, I forgot. But I _was_ invited.”

“Indeed. But if you insist on throwing popcorn at me, it’s only fair you have to eat them off of me.”

“I don’t think you really get the concept of punishments, but I’m not complaining.” 

“Who said anything about punishments? It’s a reward. To me, for containing myself and not kicking you out of bed.”

Bernard grinned, and his eyes sparkled.

“Oh. My mistake.”

“Shut up and eat your fucking popcorn,” Theresa said, smiling, and Bernard was more than happy to oblige.


	5. Nightmares

* * *

 

Bernard was deep asleep when the scream cut through the dark bedroom, startling him awake. Theresa was thrashing around in bed, crumpling up the bedsheets and hitting and kicking in the air as if she was trying to fight off an invisible but terrifying attacker.

He crawled over to her side of the bed, getting struck on one cheek by her flailing arm, but rather than retreating he took hold of her shoulder and shook her gently.

“Theresa. You’re having a nightmare. Easy, easy…” this time he avoided getting struck, but only narrowly. “Tess, wake up, honey.”

His voice was still soft, but he shook her a bit harder, wondering what kind of nightmare could keep a grip so firm it was nearly impossible to wake her.

“Wake up, Theresa!”

Her eyes opened and she gasped for air.

“It’s okay,” Bernard said. “Easy, it’s okay.”

Breathing heavily, she leaned back against the pillows. Her hair was plastered against her sweaty forehead, and her cheeks were flushed.

“You had a nightmare,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied and looked away, unwilling to elaborate.

“What was it about?”

“I don’t remember.”

He just kept looking at her until she caved.  

“It was about something that happened in my past. Not important.”

He thought about pushing her on the matter, but she looked so exhausted he didn’t want to upset her further right now. She had been working twelve-hour-shifts for over a week, and kept brushing his concern off.

“Okay,” he said.

Theresa took a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand, laid back down and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

“You called me honey,” she said. “Or did I dream that too?”

“No, you didn’t dream that.” He held his breath for a moment, wondering if she would think terms of endearment was crossing the boundaries of their affair.

“I liked it.” She sounded like she spoke to herself and that she was surprised by what she was saying. “I really did.”

“Good,” he said and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. “I liked saying it. Now, let’s go back to sleep, honey.”

Instead of replying with words, Theresa pulled him closer. He put his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest. That was how she wanted to go to sleep every night. She was starting to feel too old for casual flings; she wanted stability, no matter how hard it was for her to admit it. She wanted someone who would wake her up when she had nightmares, comfort her, and not think less of her because of it. She had been willing to keep up the charade of being friends with benefits, but when Bernard called her honey, all of that fell apart.

“It seems this is starting to get serious,” she mumbled.

“So it seems,” Bernard agreed. She had to smile at how carefully he chose his words.

“I don’t mind. Do you?”

“No.”

“Good. Can you get the lights?”

He reached out and turned off the lights. Theresa huddled up even closer and whispered in his ear;

“Goodnight, honey.”


	6. Cuddle

* * *

 

“Hale wondered what the fuck I had done to hurt my back,” Theresa said.

“Uh-oh. What did you say?”

“I could hardly tell her the truth, could I?” She gave him a look that was sharp on the surface but amused beneath. “Can you imagine me telling Charlotte Hale that in the heat of the moment with you, my body forgot it’s got 48 years’ worth of mileage and thought it was 24?”

“Are you trying to blame me for this?” Bernard chuckled. “Because I told you we should take it to the bed.”

“And then I would have missed the opportunity of lathering you up with soap,” Theresa said. “Nah, sex in the shower is a lousy idea whether you’re eighteen or eighty-eight, just like it’s not as comfortable in the back of a car as the movies make it seem. But, I was in the mood.”

He cupped her chin with one hand and kissed her on the lips.

“Yes, you were. And right now you’re avoiding the question. What did you tell Hale about your back?”

“I told her I slipped getting out of the shower.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t tell her the truth?”

“Bernie, while it may be true that I was both wet and slippery, I didn’t fucking _slip_.” She gave him a mischievous grin and kissed him back.

“Don’t say things like that when we can’t do anything,” he growled, nipping at her neck. Theresa laughed.

“Who said we can’t do anything?”

“Tess, you’re in pain and you can barely walk.”

“The former _is_ an issue, but the latter happens a lot when you’ve been involved,” she replied, playfully tugging at his belt.

“You’re still in pain,” he murmured.

“As long as I get to lie down and you do the job, I’m game.”

“Mhmm... If you ask nicely, I’ll even give you a back massage afterwards.”

“Nicely?” Theresa said, frowning. “When did I ever give you the impression that I’m a nice girl?”

He stroked her cheek.

“I know you like to keep that rough exterior, but I also know you’re a nice girl underneath. Wanna know how I know?”

She nodded. By now they were half-naked and half-way to bed, and the conversation didn’t halt the physical arousal for either of them.

“Because nice girls cuddle.”

“You think I’m clingy?” Theresa said, eyebrows raised. Clingy was the polar opposite of her personality, at least as far as she knew.

“The last thing you are is _clingy_ ,” Bernard replied, gently helping her get onto the bed and find a comfortable position, “but you are definitely a _cuddler_.”

“Oh no, my deepest, darkest secret revealed,” Theresa said, pulling him down on top of her. “Now, I think it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

“I am, too.”

She chuckled and put her arms around his neck.

"Well, let's cuddle, then."


	7. Pickles

* * *

 

”Fuck.”

A few moments pass.

“ _Fuck_!”

Another few moments pass.

Then Theresa, dressed in panties and one of Bernard’s shirts, which reaches her halfway down her thighs, comes into the bedroom where Bernard is still in bed, not yet wanting to get up, as it’s their day off. She has a jar of pickles in her hand.

“I can’t get the damn thing open,” she says. Her tone is annoyed, and her face shows embarrassment mixed with defiance. She’s not a woman used to not being strong enough – in any situation. And she’s definitely not a woman used to saying the words that comes out of her mouth next. “Help me.”

Bernard takes the jar from her and opens it for her with ease. When he’s in his blazer at work, you couldn’t see his swelling biceps and based on his mild-mannered appearance you probably wouldn’t even guess he had them, but Theresa, having been held by his strong arms during many nights, is very familiar with his strength.

“Thank you.” She gives him a quick kiss.

“Cravings?” he jokes.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas, Bernard.”

But she's smiling. 


	8. Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected smut. I don't know what happened, but I'm kinda glad it did. ^^

* * *

 

It’s late. About the time that Bernard would leave Theresa’s place and sneak back to his own, even though they have been a bit slack on that lately. More and more often they end up spending the whole night together. They both tell themselves it’s just laziness, and the fact that they both have a change of clothes and a toothbrush at each other’s place is nothing to think twice about. Nor the fact that Theresa even has a nightgown and a full makeup kit at Bernard’s.

Bernard doesn’t want to leave yet. He reaches out and starts running his fingertips down her arm.  

“Tell me something about yourself,” he says.

“Like what?” she asks. She has been silent for so long he expected her to sound sleepy, but she sounds very alert.

“Something. Anything.”

”Hmm…” It sounds almost like a purr. “I’m a pretty good rider,” Theresa says eventually.

“Weren’t you allergic to horses?” Bernard ask. Theresa raises an eyebrow.

“Your point being?”

She tosses her hair back over her shoulder and climbs up on top of him, leaning down to kiss him.

“Oh,” he murmurs when it dawns on him what she’s talking about.

“I concur with that statement, Mr Lowe,” Theresa breathes against his mouth, smiling into the next kiss. “Want to know just _how_ good a rider I am?”

“Mmhmm,” he replies, enjoying the exquisite feeling of her weight and deliberate moves on top of him. “I had no idea you were a rodeo star, Miss Cullen.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“You certainly are right now.”

Her eyes flash with almost dangerous desire.

“Naughty.”

He chuckles even as his breath begins to quicken, and puts both hands on Theresa’s hips as she rides him like a pro. Sweat is glistening on her skin and her breasts, small enough to have stayed firm well into her late forties, heave with each pre-orgasmic gasp.

Because he’s a gentleman, he lets the lady come first, but it’s by a narrow margin. There is nothing that can push him over the edge faster than watching – and _feeling_ – Theresa’s pleasure. She is always different behind closed doors, but she is so different in that moment of extasy that she could just as well be a different person. There is nothing uptight or distant about Theresa in bed, and she is surprisingly gentle as well. Maybe a little bit bossy from time to time, but not in a way that ruins the mood. Quite the opposite. And she is not afraid to lose herself in the pleasure of lovemaking. That’s what he enjoys the most about their nights together – to see Theresa let go of her self-control and just give herself up to the orgasm.

Afterwards, she rolls off him, but immediately curls up against him, leaning her head on his chest.

“Well?” she says playfully. He chuckles and gives her a deep kiss.

“Best ride of my life.”

“Mine too,” Theresa replies with a tired but satisfied sigh.

“Tess?”

“Yes?”

But courage fails him.

“Never mind.”

Theresa smiles. This isn’t her sexy smile, this is a sweet and warm smile, one of affection rather than attraction.

“I already know what you were going to say, Bernie… and I love you too.”

   


	9. Wine

* * *

 

”You think that’s a good idea?” Theresa says as she slams the door shut behind her and strides up to Bernard, who’s standing in his kitchen, blazer and tie off, and corking up a bottle of wine.

“Drinking wine?” he asks innocently. “Why, you’re welcome to join me.”

“I’m not talking about the fucking wine, I’m talking about the way you looked at me in the meeting,” she says, climbs up on the kitchen counter and grabs him by the suspenders, pulling him towards her.

“I thought I was discreet.”

“Not discreet enough,” she says, parting her legs so he can step in between them. “ _I_ noticed.”

He chuckles and puts his arms around her, his hands running down the curve of her arched back.

“That was kind of the point.”

“Well, Mr Lowe, if you start something, you’d better finish it,” she says, leaning in for a kiss. “And you’d better hurry. I have a late phone conference with the board in twenty minutes.”

“Ah,” he mumbles against her mouth as he hitches up her skirt. “Well, I’m sure I can rise to the occasion.”

Theresa is sure of that, too. In fact, she can already feel the proof of it against her thigh.

It only takes them a couple of minutes, then Theresa slides down from the counter, smooths down her skirt, wipes the smeared lipstick off her mouth, and begins to head for the door.

“Just like that, huh?” Bernard chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “I’m nothing but a stress reliever to you, aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t stressed, I was horny. And that was _your_ fault, so it’s only fair you fix the issue.”

But her casual tone is mostly undone by her warm smile and the little tilt of her head.

“I’ll do a more thorough job later,” he jokes. Her smile turns into that adorable nose-crinkling grin that melts him every time.

“You’re going to get one hell of a reciprocation,” she promises him. One of her hands rest on the door handle, she raises the other to point at the bottle of Merlot. “Save me some wine? I might have to defend Lee Sizemore during this phone meeting, you know.”

“Ouch. I’ll break out a second bottle right away,” he replies and she laughs as she leaves. 

It may be cheesy, but that's really all he needs. To be the one that makes her laugh. 

_And_ the one that makes her come. 

 


End file.
